Fred the Freaky Barber
by Dying Rose on The Vine
Summary: The freak's a barber, a freaky barber, he once had a freaky barber shop, where freaky things happen, freaky barber things.
1. Chapter 1

Fred the Freaky Barber

Author's note: This may be my first un-helped, un-necessary, one-shot. (Although, when I say un-helped, I very well may be lying) I'm rather depressed at the moment, but I won't let that stop me from writing something enjoyable. I was rather upset by the lack of fair Freaky Fred stories, so here we go!

Disclaimer: I own not the Dog or Courage that frolics so on Cartoon telly, nor do I own the Asylums, or much of anything else...

Review after reading for best results

Repeat

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Merging of Asylums

On a dark fall night, when all the trees have lost their leaves, and stretched their fingers up to the heavens, as though they're in some sort of horrible agony begged for release. And it was a day such as this that this tale did unfold, a day such as this when two asylums merged.

There they were! The circus clowns, in scores of ten and more, lion tamers with voice like roars, there were men like monkeys and woman like men, and obscenely obese and tall. And their hair, O, their hair!

The clusters of clowns, the ferocity of their lion-like manes, furry and wiry, unclean and genial! It was just like being at the circus, only they were at my front door. Ah, what joyous of occupations, if only I could be a little..._naaaauughtyy._

From my window, I could see them. Confused, but stopped and stayed them, as though where planning to rest in this humble abode. Oh! I could only hope so, it would give me a chance to be..._naaauuughtyyy._

A bell from above rang loudly, causing Fred to look very confused. It was way past luncheon, and far too early for dinner, so why would they be calling them? His wonderfully padded room door popped open. Fred lifted himself to his feet, something he had become a master of. You have a lot of free time; when you're all locked up like this, you find you become very good at odd things, like lifting yourself up without use of your arms.

Fred was a tall man, with straw coloured hair that sat wildly top his head, amazingly green eyes, and thin limbs, two of which were tied up in a strait-jacket. This was the home for freaky barbers, this was Fred's Home.

Hello, dear friends, remember me? My name is Fred, I say, I said, my name is Fred, dearest friends, and the words you hear are from inside my head...

Fred was taken aback, when he noticed the rest of the people living in this charming home, has also meandered out. With a smile wide, he rolled his eyes. They were all bell trained now! Or maybe they all were just curious...like he was.

This line of strait-jacket barbers, each with their own little hang-ups, filed down the metal stairs, into the main foyer, where the 'Doctors' were waiting. There they were, in their common doctor gear, holding bats, and wearing plastic gloves, as doctors tend to do.

He tired to take a gander on what was going on ahead of him, but the man in front of him was dreadfully tall, and the people would just disappear for good. They wouldn't come back, which didn't bode with him at all well. He really didn't want to disappear today; it was pudding Friday, after all.

Smiling still, ever curious, Fred moved down the way, until it was his turn. He walked through the narrow door way, after they called his name.

"Yes, Gentlemen?" he asked lightly, looking around curiosity, but his manners only got him pinned down to the table and de-strait-jacketed, much to his surprise. He liked being able to move his arms again and breathe freely. Fred was pushed along roughly, until he found himself on the back stairs that lead to the second floor, where they all were kept, very confused.

What had just happened? Oh, well, he shrugged his shoulders and gave a little sigh, heading back up to his room. He took his time, only speeding up the blue and magenta painted hallway when he heard the next person start up them.

I have a tale I need to tell, and tell I will, and tell it well...

He made his way into his hall, he knew the place like the back of his hand, and speaking of which...Fred felt around in his pocket of his green pants, and pulled out an electric razor, its holding part red, and button green. He pressed the button and listened to its marvellous sound! Its whirling blades! But, with nothing to shave, he turned it off and put it away.

Oh, just how I came to be incarcerated in this hell, but I suppose I have me to blame, for I was...very _naaauuughtyyy._

Lost in his own thought, his thin arms behind his back, he wondered along the corridor, when he hit something soft. Whatever he had bumped into apparently wasn't paying any attention, either, because it went stumbling backwards.

Now, normally, few things quell the thoughts in me that swell, and swell. But, I did spy a Southern Bell, whose hair did upon me fell...to be a little _naaauuughtyyyy. _

That 'Southern Bell' had an amazing mess of hair. It was a sticky brown, and looked as though Rasta fairies had settled down on her head, and she must have done some furious fighting back. Her hair shot out from her skull, like some sort of sun flower, or lion, or a dandelion...um, moving on.

"Oh, my hat!" she said in a sweet southern voice, looking around frantically for it. It had fallen behind her when she had bumped into Fred. She picked it up, capped her head, and turned her large blue eyes to our star, Fred. For all descriptive purposes, she was shaped like a shapely eight, and dressed in a purple suit.

Her hair was once beautiful, I could tell, and in me it did compel, that I'd be a little..._naaaauughtyy._

"I reckon you are real," she said, looking at Fred with those big round eyes of hers; she tilted her purple hat, as though she wasn't sure what angle it should be on top of her brown mound of hair.

She looked at me so beseechingly, her eyes a worry, and questioningly. No doubt the next words that would come out of her mouth would be: Oh, Fred, oh, Fred, help me, please, although you look ever so..._naaaaauuuughtyyy._

Fred gave her a crooked yellow toothed smile that spread from side to side like a vortex of insanity. He gripped her by her shoulders round, pulling her closer towards him. Her demeanour was a tad unsure, as though she had wandered in the building, without an inkling of what she was doing, and all for the better, for the better for Fred.

"Come along, come along," he told her kindly. His grin stretched to its maximum length; she gave him a frighten look, that he was all to accustomed to see, but it did not prevent him from walking her along the narrow sea-green hall towards his room.

"Well, then," she started, furrowing her brow, "would'ja kindly tell me where I should be? They let us in here, but-" she stopped speaking, as he stopped in front of the door to his small padded room.

"Here," Fred informed her firmly but kindly, opening wide the door that separated them and the room. Now, holding both her shoulders with his fine hands, he pushed her forward. Once in, he shut the door behind him, leering out his small glass window, just to be sure no one was there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fred the Freaky Barber**

**Author's note:** Opps! I lied! There was help, and there are more chapters! I liked the idea so much I created a plot. Fred deserves it. The spacing got a little weird in the centre. Was it me? (The new digimon is drawn differently…Hm. Out October first.)

**Reply to ****OrneryTexan** What a great name! I'm so glad that I have you hooked. Continue to read and reply!!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Courage, though if I did, the show would be ten time more disturbing, three times more plot heavy, and twice the amount of scary music and appearances of favourite villains.

**The Surgeon General has concluded that reviewing after reading will lead to a longer life and a healthy sex life**.

Whaddya got to lose?

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A tale to tell

"This here room is awf'ly small," The girl said conversationally. The padded room was no larger than your average asylum room, which may or may not be four by eight in some sort of measurement of some sort.

The walls were high, and padded, as padded rooms tend to be, with a single barred window (that looked as though it might have been broken a time before) that over looked the yard. She shuffled over to the window.

"What a view," She whistled, glanced down, and waving to the no one down there. The view was spectacular; the lawn was bright green with grass, and spotted with pretty coloured flowers that seemed to go on forever, and to top it off it was slightly hilly. A rare sight in Kansas, indeed. "Makes up for havin' to be in such a crammed space now doesn't-"

She hadn't noticed Fred had been creeping up on her, until his arm crossed over her chest.

"-it?" She jolted, but Fred held her steady. He took his free hand, and removed her hat from the brushy mane of hair on her head, resulting in instant dismay.

"Whut in the name of concord grapes do you think ya doin'?!" Was her out burst, but Fred took no notice of it.

"I just want to see your hair," He told her, his words eerily elongated, though he thought it was rather soothing. Fred placed her hat on the floor beside them. Fred lost his grip on her momentarily, for she made a dive for her hat. She clenched the rim of her hat, and attempted to roll to safety, but that was is vain, for Fred stopped her by placing a knee on her back, leaning over her, his razor out.

"Now, now, let's not squirm," Fred pressed the tiny green button, starting up his red terror, "I don't want to nick you."

_Vrrrrrn_

The first cut came, not a deep one, as she still was squirming, but after the first pass, she went still, allowing (much to Fred's delight) him work with out heed.

Again and again, the shears came down. Her hair went with it, so easily, like cutting through water. Though, cutting through water with an electric razor is a dangerous and pointless tasks, Fred would much rather be cutting hair.

And oh, how he did cut! Piece after piece, lock after lock of glorious mangled brown hair fell to the floor until the top of her head was much like a clear cut forest. Only then did Fred turn off his razor, and lift his knee off her back.

He stood and watched her scrambled to the far side of the little room, hat clenched in her hands. She placed it firmly on her now, hairless skull, giving Fred a look of curiosity and fear, as though she wasn't sure what to expect next, but Fred was done. He was considering in just kicking her out of his room, when she said;

"That's it?"

Fred looked at her with a curious gaze, what had she been expecting? He sat down on the other side of the room, across from her, his head tilted to the side.

They sat their, each considering the other, waiting for the other to talk. A silence such as this could never be mimicked or met, as it was a silence thick with loud, the loudness of their minds.

Finally, after many moments of contemplation, Fred asked, "What is it?"

"That," She insisted, drawing her legs and pulling her arms close to her, "You're not gunna chop my limps off, are ya, 'cause I'm rather attached to 'em."

"Chop them off?" Fred looked as though he was considering this, but shook his head slowly after awhile. No, he wasn't planning to do anything of the sort. How queer that she even thought of that, "My name is Fred."

She adjusted her hat, looking a little more relieved than before, "Well, Fred, I don't suppose you did any harm," She turned her hat around, until it faced the right way, satisfied with it, she continued, "Look! Now my hat fits right again." She took her attention off her hat, and gave Fred a little half smile, "I'm Delorus."

"Delorus," He repeated, looking thoughtful. What he was thinking about, I don't rightly know, and if you ask Fred, I'm not sure he would tell you, "a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, I think," Delorus replied, stretching out a leg, not that she knew (or hoped she knew) it be safe. She was still watching Fred wearily, but this paranoia was sure to fade away like many things are sure to do.

"What brings your..." He wasn't sure how to address her, or her group, which she had to have come from, since he had never seen her around here before.

"Ah!" She exclaimed dramatically, stretching out her other leg, "Well, that there is whut happens when you stick a whole mess of fire eaters in a very flammable building." Delorus gave a sort of half smile, apparently incapable of many facial expressions, as it looked strained, this sort of, companionship. "Whut about ya self?"

"Me?" Fred asked, leaning towards her, "...It's a rather long tale." A tale as long as his smile, for it stretched from side to side, showing off all the teeth in his skull.

"Well, I have a rather long time to be here," She replied, her face settling back down, bright blue eyes locked on Fred. He wasn't going to get out of this Scott free, was he?

Fred gave her a loud sigh, smiling wistfully. What a silly little creature...

It was Fred's birthday, his sixth birthday to be precise, and he longed to open his presents. But, alas! He had to wait for his Aunt and Uncle to arrive. They lived far out of town, and took them awhile to get in, but a six year olds attention span would hardly allow for that.

It seemed forever before his Aunt Murielle, and his Uncle Eustace arrived, but when they did, he could finally open his gifts! There was not a happier boy around than Fred that day, as he tore open his gifts.

It was a day I'd not forget

But out of all his gifts, he had a favorite, being a bright red handheld razor (His father was a barber, and felt a swelling sense of pride as his son opened his gift), or it was his favorite, until Aunt Murielle surprised him with something that filled his heart with glee.

the day that I first met my pet.

He unwrapped the paper to reveal a tiny cage with an even tinnier hamster in it. His fur was the softest of pinks, and his eyes were the bluest of blues. He was nibbling a little bit of his bedding as Fred held the cage to his chest.

His mother, with an amazing amount of blond hair she had passed on to her son, gave a giggle, "Oh, Fred, you've always wanted a pet!"

"Take good care of it, son-"His father started, a stringy looking man with green eyes. He didn't have the chance to finish what he was saying, as his son darted across the room to hug his Aunt tightly. She officially became his favorite that day. 

Oh! What a lovely gift to get.

The family members left after cake and food, or visa versa, as the case may be. And soon Fred soon retired to his room, with gifts in arms. His room was decorated like any little kid's room was- messily and bright. He placed his mound of his (which he could hardly see over) on his unmade bed. He dug around until he extracted a cage, and smiled- a sweet wide smile. 

I'd never felt so..._naughty_.

He then unhooked the tiny latch that held the hamster in its cage, and reached in. The fuzzy rodent squeeked loudly, moving to the back of the cage. But, alas, the hamster found itself in the hand of Fred. He pulled it out, scratching its head lightly. 

My fuzzy friend is what he was, this darling little ball of fuzz.  
And, oh, such fuzz, such fuzz! It does

Yes, his fur was so soft and nice against his the skin of his hand. He took the hamster and rubbed it against his face, he felt the creature squirm, and giggled. It _tickled._ Fred gave a small giggle, as he lifted the hamster up so they could look each in the eye.

demand that I be..._naughty_.

He took out his shiny new razor from the pile of joy on his bed. His free hand caressed the red razor, as the smile enlarged, and seemed to grow with every passing second, until it could no longer grow, least it fly off his face. With two fingers, Fred held the adorable creature down on his tiny palm, fingers out.

He looked at me, his fetching eyes, and fetching fur did hypnotize.  
I filled with joy, I filled with sighs.

Fred's eyes did gleam with joy, and he did give a sigh. But that's not all he was doing…As the creature looked up him pleading with his very blue eyes, it was as though it could tell…as though it knew what was going to happen next. 

And that's when I got..._naughty_.

Fred turned the razor on, bringing it down on the poor little animal. Again, again, and again, he cut, trimmed, slashed, and razed until the animal was bald and shivering in the palm of his hand. Still grinning, near manically, he shuffled through the fallen hair of his pet, and replaced it in its cage.

The hamster looked mad at him, as Fred shifted to the other side of the room, staring at his newness. The young Fred faded into the old Fred, who was looking at Delorus in the very same manner he had once looked at his hamster.

"If you don't want ta tell me," She said, sounding uneasy. Fred seemed to have floated into his own little word, and yet, he seemed to be right there. How that was possible…

"Oh, no," Fred replied, "No, I mean I do," again he paused, "but I think you should be first." Yes, that seemed like an appropriate answer. He could gather his thoughts, while she blathered on about herself.

"Hm, I suppose ladies do go first after all," Delorus gave him her sweetest half smile, gathering her thoughts as well, but unlike Fred, she was a bit quicker. She leaned her head against the padded white wall, closing her eyes. "I once had a friend, ya' know the kind, the ones you stick to like glue-"

Fred nodded, in his own thoughts, half listening. He always had been very good at listening and thinking at the same time.

Her story went one for at least an hour; go on about things that seemed to have little or no purpose for her tale (Like the horse isn't native animal to the Down Under). But what Fred had gathered was that, at one time, she had a boyfriend named Daire Rainyday, who went to Clown collage, and she followed him, even though he told her no. They started a circus together, with her as the ringmaster. At some point, she had stood up, and was whirling her purple cladded arms around.

"Together! We were together for such a long- away! Away!" She snarled, looking slightly demented. Her blue eyes bulging, "Him and her! They! RRRRrrrr…." Panting, she flopped back down, holding her head as though it gave her pain.

This sudden climax and fall caused Fred to be shaken from his thoughts. He stood up, looking serious, and looked down at her. Then, with an almost serene sound in his voice, he said; "Calm down, you'll get grey hairs."

Delorus relaxes her fingers, moving them down her face slowly. A loud bonging bell cried throughout the mad house, like many of the cries of the incumbents within. Fred, thankfully, was never affected like some of his fellow inmates.

"Was that…?"

"That's the dinner bell," Fred smiled, as he pulled the girl up. She seemed unable to keep balance, and would wobble and wiggled as she walked beside him. The two stepped out into the hallway, with the rest of the hungry insane.

Fred let his thoughts lapsed back into memories as his new friend hummed what sounded like 'O, my darling', that song…with the banjo.

Young Fred came home from school that day with a smile on his face. He wanted to see how the hamster turned out, but as he crossed the threshold of his home, he bumped full face into his mother. She looked a little angry.

"Fred," She scolded, in her Scottish drawl, "How could you?"

He looked confused up at her, how could he what now? Fred's eyes widened with surprise when she pulled out his tiny bald hamster from the pocket of her apron.

"What's wrong?" He asked, confused more then ever, "Is it sick?" To this, his mother replied with a scowl. She dragged him over to his father, or that's how he remember it. Maybe it was later…Anywho…

His father took him a side, handing the hamster to him. The little creature squirmed in fear as he took it in his hand. Fred looked up at the tall figure of his father, waiting to be told what was going on; he still didn't know what was wrong.

"Fred," His father said firmly, "I want you to go to your room and think about what you did. You can't be shaving poor defenseless animals like that, you know."

"Why is that?" His son puzzled, his green eyes full of confusion.

His father sighed, "Because, Fred, it's naughty."


	3. Chapter 3

Fred the Freaky Barber

Author's note: Well,kiddies! It must be time for another update. I fixed the second chapter, yes, I knew it needed a re-write.

Reply to Warlord-xana: Thank you! I hope you keep reading!

Reply to Mireia: -blushes- Ah, go on! Thank you so very much! My goal here was to make a story that gave Fred justice, since all the other ones…erm, don't. Squeak, I aim to please, as always. Enjoy this one! (Fred's my favourite episode of all times ) And good luck with the Seventh book- it made me cry, and become very upset.

**Read and review or I'll die!**

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A daring escape

Being stuck in a place full of people with the same problems as you isn't so bad, when you think of it. It's more of a club, that way. Even if the club is full of mad killers with tacky makeup, mimes with split personality, and the generally insane.

So, it was only natural that the inmates that were forced to flee their home were complaining. Luckily, they had clowns to brighten the mood.

There was a lanky contortionist, named Colette whose hair had been victim to the terrible fire that occurred at the Home for messed up circus folk, who had been asked about five times by a resident of this home if she'd like a hair cut. Refusing once more, she sat down with a sigh.

"This place is a little too freaky," Colette admitted to her friends, who were eating dinner already. You could see it in there faces that they agreed with her, even though no one voiced it.

"It makes my freakish ability seem less freakish," Kevin said. He was woefully ambidextrous man, and was currently eating his meal with two hands.

"This food is awful," Hugo complained, he was hunched over, being a hunchback. All three had been jailed not because they were all 'freaks', no, they were merely criminally insane, though they wouldn't admit it. However, their friend, who was a dark skinned clown with simple black and white face paint, spiky red hair, and a black out fit. He was known simply as the Clown.

"He-h-he-h," He twitched, a little thing that happened when he laughed, "I have something that'll cheer you guys up, he-h-he-h."

The group perked up considerably, all leaning in to hear Clown's joke. He was an awful clown, who couldn't juggle or tell jokes, but then again, he was sitting with freaks whose freakish skills weren't that freaky.

"What did the farmer say to the duck?" He questioned, getting the usual response of curious silence, he waited a pause more, and then blurted out, "Bacon!"

The criminally insane laughed loudly, encouraging Clown to tell another one, and another one, until their criminally insane hurt from laughing.

"Okay, okay," He said, sounding pleasantly flustered, "One more…Two fishes swim into a living room-"

Colette's eyes went as round as anyone eyes could ever get, swallowing hard whatever was on her fork.

"And one says to the other," Clown said slightly confused, as Colette was waving her hands and shaking her head in a no like manner.

"What is it, Colette?" Asked Kevin, who was sitting next to her, eating, and listening at the same time. He looked up from his plate, with the same look of terror on his face, and now was doing the same thing now.

"…salami…what's wrong with you guys?" Clown looked very confused by his friend's actions, but he would soon realise why…a very painful why.

"_You're not funny, Clown,"_ A Southern voice of a much feared ex-she-ringmaster rang in Clown's ears. _"Clowns are suppose' ta be funny!" _

A fork found its way in the hair of this unfunny clown. How and why Delorus came across a metal fork, we may never know, as they clearly didn't have metal forks at an institution.

"An' all of you," She said her voice rather commanding as she placed a foot on the bench (chairs can be a deadly thing) where Clown and Hungo were sitting, "are poor example of the pre-formin' arts…I've be'n meanin' to have a talk wit' ya'll." She looked at them sincerely, as Clown was struggling to get the fork off the table.

"Wha-what kind of talk?" Colette asked timidly, because she knew very well what kind of talk it was going to be-a violent one.

"Colette, deary, I don't mean any har'ship on you," She replied sweetly, her one eye squinting, so it looked very small in comparison to her other eye, "You're a fine contortionist, a fine one indeed, bot…" Delorus pointed, leering at Kevin, who had put his silver ware down and looked dismayed at the same time.

"Wouldn't you prefer it if ya only had one han'?" She questioned, sounding full hearted about it, she pulled out a gnarly looking knife, and apparently she had got it at the same time as the fork. "That way, ya'll can be a real freak, instea' of a fake freak-"

"N-no, no, I really don't think that's such a good idea," Kevin waved both of his hands at the same time, showing her it was okay, "I'm really happy with being a freaky ambidextrous man."

"Nonsense," She brushed that away airily, but then there was a jolt, a snap if you will, and her voice returned to a screech, _"That's not a freaky thin', there are plenty of ambidex-treus folk- yeeeeeeeeehaaaaa!" _

Just then, a man in a doctor jacket slammed a tazer gun into her neck, causing her body to rack about. Delorus fell forward, knocking Hugo's tray on to herself, or something of that matter.

Knocking off the orange juice container off her head, she placed her hat back, and went on her marry way as though nothing happened.

The doctor that had shocked her gave a heavy sigh, "Will we be ordering another straight-jacket?"

"No," The other one, who walked up beside him with a clip board, said, "We'll take that one too." There was a nod, and they stepped off, checking up other patients.

Delorus wobbled away, bumping into various people and tables as she made her way towards the end of the lunch line. The line was much like a line from lunch, with pushing and shoving, and much food pilfering, only except no one had to pay, and they _all_ had things wrong with them.

It was Delorus's luck that Fred was getting out of the line, with two trays in hand. How he managed that one, we may never know. He was wearing a large smile, which faltered when he saw that she was smoking.

"May some friends, have you?" He handed her a tray, leading her to two unoccupied seats. She seemed to be in a sort of daze, her blue eyes gazing to someplace for out, unreachable by any one that wasn't Delorus.

"H-hm," She replied thoughtfully, sitting down across from him. The chairs were an ugly green to match the tables and any sort of bean product. Fred started to eat, though he paused, as though to say something, but Delorus still seemed to be far away. Was it possible for someone to be soaking wet and smoking at the same time? Fred pondered this as Delorus attacked the pudding's plastic cover with her spoon. How strange this was!

How similar…it was almost like the other time, a time long lost in rhythm, when my once fair lass had come to stay. Oh, yes, as bold as you may. She sat down beside me that faithful day…

A younger Fred, younger then the one today, but much older then the one with the hamster sat on a park bench by himself. Yes, Fred had grown up…grown up naught. No! He had been good, very good indeed; he never had another episode since his hamster, though he wanted to so much.

He gripped his knees, listening to the leaves above him. There were fantastic colours over his head, and they sang tiny little songs of leafy autumn joy. He was just about to close his eyes when he left someone sit down next to him. There were many benches in the Nowhere park, so why sit down next to him? He turned his head to see who it was…

She gave him a tiny smile, a smile as sweet as arty clogging sugar, but that isn't what intrigued Fred about this young lady, what intrigued him was the great amount of hair she possessed. He knew who it was, for she every once and a while came around to the barber shop he worked at, bringing him produce from her families farm.

_Barbara, my love was named_

"Barbara, how are you?" Fred asked her kindly, today; like usual, she wore a pretty lace dress (a solid blue that matched her eyes today), and had her great blond hair in twirlly pigtails and four massive braids that trailed down her back.

_And her fair hair, a mane untamed_

"Wonderful," She replied, but she seemed almost worried, "Oh, Fred, we're moving into town." She looked down at her tiny folded hands, squeezing them tightly. Smiling even more, she looked up at Fred again.

"But what will happen to your farm?" He asked worriedly, trying to look anywhere other then her hair, it was sucking his attention in like a golden vortex. Anywhere! But her eyes pleaded to his, and he was forced to look.

"Oh, we'll make do…I-"She wringed her hands even more.

"What is it, Barbara?" Fred took her hands in his, they were trembled "You're shaking like a leaf, you-"

She squeezed his hands lightly, "I moved out, Fred, "He opened his mouth to say something, but she just shook her head, "so I could be with you."

Fred was speechless.

They spent many happy years together in an apartment house above the barber shop were Fred worked. They lived together, and everything was perfect…

Barbara was napping on a wee red sofa; her hair was down, like a blond waterfall. Fred mounted the steps after he had shut down the shop for the night (it was his turn that day), once in his home, and upon seeing Barbara; he let out a sigh of joy. His life was perfectly complete.

_Until one evening, I'm ashamed… _

He turned on the light nearest to Barbara, it didn't wake her. He sat down in the moth –hole ridden chair, that was next to the coffee table, that was next to the sofa, that Barbara was on. The lamp light caught her hair…

Fred picked up the _Nowhere Times, _in a vain attempted to distract himself. His fingers tightened on the newspaper, he was clearly losing this fight with himself. He soon was re-reading the same line over and over again, until his eyes wandered above the newspaper.

He stood up, and then went on his knees by the sofa. Fred ran his hands through her golden locks, letting out a noise of joy. It was so soft, so smooth…He became painfully aware of his razor in his pocket. He always kept it, even though he wasn't allowed to use it. No…one day he'd open a shop of his own…Fred swallowed hard, fighting an impulse that had never showed its head since Barbara came into his life…

_I got a little…__**naughty**_

With out thinking, his hand slipped into his pocket, and pulled out the hand held razor. His subconscious made a little thither about this, but it was soon overrode by something all together more powerful…

_Vrrrn_

…His need to cut. It was all consuming- Barbara's hair hit his face as she shaved her head masterfully, as though it was his calling in life to cut, trim, shave. It was his luck that Barbara was such a deep sleeper, otherwise…

Fred stood up, looking pleased with himself as he stood in a sea of his lovers hair. With a smile as wide as it could possibly go, he staggered off to his bedroom for the night.

He woke up that next morning, not remembering what happened the night before completely, like many people; sane and sick. He couldn't remember when he went to sleep, but as he pulled himself out of bed, thoughts of Barbara filled his head. He couldn't wait to wake her up, or in this case, pick her up, and put her in bed.

_The look upon my young loves face -As sweet as lace-_

Feeling full of euphoria, Fred walked out of the bedroom, expecting the silence of the house to greet him. Today wasn't the case, however.

_But in this case, I realised…_

A bald Barbara stood in front of Fred, her face red and her fists curled. Oh yes…_that's_ what happened last night.

"Dearest…" Fred said breathlessly, looking slightly vexed, "It's not what it- oh-"He held up his hands in dismay, backing away.

"What is it then!?" She exploded, causing Fred race to the other side of the hall, being the kitchen. Barbara moved as though to throttle him, though Fred wasn't sure, and he sure as heck wasn't going to find out.

He tried to explain himself, but that in itself was a difficult thing to do when someone was throwing very breakable dishes and glass was your head. An old jelly jar, now converted into a glass, smashed above his head as he opened the door.

He managed to get the door open, and behind it as something large, maybe a vase, smashed into it. Panting, he slid down the door, looking slightly perplexed.

_She needed space._

Fred gave a harsh sigh that caught Delorus' attention, but only briefly. She licked her pudding spoon and thought about something pleasant, though her face just crinkled lightly.

"Delorus…" He started, but she took no notice of him. Fred leaned over the table, swiftly taking off her hat. That dreamy look fell off her face, and if Fred had been a second slower, he might have lost his arm.

He twirled her hat in his hand before handing it back,"How would you like to go to the circus today?"

"The circus?" Delorus tilted her head, placing down her spoon with some satisfaction. The pudding had been very good, indeed. Her blue eyes looked a little more focused at she placed her hat back on her shaved head.

"Yes, I heard it was in town," Fred continued, watching the kitchen guard shift back and forth bored like on his feet. This would be easy, hopefully. "And tomorrow is Meatloaf day; I tend to avoid things like that."

"Whut do ya purpose?" She replied, tilting back in her chair like a Mafia Godfather.

"Well…"

So it was, that she and I, had found away to get on by

Feeding time was over, and the herd of insane people were making their ways back to their rooms. This was the perfect over to put their (Delorus and Fred's) plan into operation. They quickly stole into the laundry room, which was mercilessly unguarded at this time.

Fred quickly pulled out a clothes hamper, as Delorus kicked clothes about to make way for the cart. This earned her a smile from Fred, but he was already smiling. Yes, this time they would catch him again, he'd be long gone…

Amongst the socks, and discarded pants, and other thing mismatched and dyed

My new found friend leaped into the bin, a chariot of our devise

"Ya sure 'bout this, Fred?" She asked, timidly, under the pile of clothes. Her words were muffled, and Fred took no notice of them, anyway. He was too busy going over the plans in his head as pulled over the guard uniforms over his clothes.

There! Done! The finishing touch was the moss green cap pulled down over his eyes and hair, the baggy moss green jacket and pants made him look like one of the security guards the stood at the door ways. He gripped the bar thing that you pushed with on the cart, and began to push it out of the room.

He kept his eyes down, careful not to see or look at anyone. Eye contact. That would undo them, if some one would notice them, but no- No one would notice them. He slipped effortlessly through the empty, cold, heartless halls.

Fred's heart sped up as they reached the front doors. Simple cheep double doors- but they stood for so much more than that. They stood for his imprisonment, for everything he's ever lost. He took a deep breath, and exhaled, and with that exhale, his smile went. He pushed the cart though the doors.

"Top of the morning to you," He told the large guards, with their cleft chin and guns calmly. It was a good thing they weren't too bright, otherwise they would have seen him shake.

"Ew, laudry duty," The one on the left grunted, and his companion joined him in laughing. Soon, they had forgotten that Fred was even there, and he rushed down the stairs, his laundry making ow-ing sounds every time he hit a step. There were many steps.

They made it to the top of the hill, that lead to the outskirts of Haven, a town outside Nowhere. On the other side of the asylum was Nowhere, but Fred would avoid that place for a little while.

"Ya know," Delorus growled, popping up out of the sea of unwashed clothes, "Ya could have warn' me about the stairs." She looked slightly mad, but it was hard to tell with Delorus.

"Now," Fred replaced his smile, resting his heels on the back of the cart. It slowly crept down hill, causing Delorus' eyes to go large, "where would the fun in that be?"

And it was, that she and I, went down the hill that touched the sky. We were gone, they'd see us not. It was thanks to Fred, me, that we were gone

Delorus let out a scream, of joy or fear, that was unknown, but they were now subjected to gravities pull as they raced down Kansas's biggest hill. Fred's hat went flying off his head, his straw coloured hair flailing in the wind.

Hurzah! Free as bird can claim to be. And all the more opportunity to be…_naughty._

They left a trail of filthy clothes down the hill and road, until the cart tipped in a ditch, causing them to fly on out. The Guards at the doors were still laughing. They had never seen such a skinny guard…come to think of it, when did they ever take the laundry out? And strange, why would they go down that way, when Nowhere was much closer than Haven…The guards stopped laughing. Not again.


	4. Chapter 4

Freaky Fred

**Author's note:** Is the update finally here? Why indeed it is! In the name of the movie that is coming out, in fact. What movie? I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually. I got so many reviews! I'm all a twitter

Reply to OrneryTexan : Sorry I couldn't update sooner! Gwa! I'm so glad I'm above expectations! I'll continue the good work!

Reply to warlord-xana: Thank you so much, and you bet your bottom!

Reply to Mireia: Rarara! Thank you so much! Yes, I thought it needed to be fleshed out- like an oyster. And we all shall we where their path takes them- and thanks! I never would have caught that .

Reply to michael: Don't worry! This train may go slow, but it will never be stopped until the end!

Reply to emily: Mine too! Thank you! I'm like a book blender when it comes to fanfictions .

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An old friend

Stonehaven was once just a gravel pit, with piles that could be seen at the very start of the Kansas territory, but once the gravel was gone, people started to build buildings, and soon a town was build, and Stone was dropped, becoming simply Haven. And what a Haven it was!

"Is it Marti Gras?" Delorus asked, as they passed street performers. Some road unicycles, other on stilts as they juggled, breathed fire, sang opera, and danced wildly in the dreams like a plague of madness had broken lose. It made Delorus feel at home, as a matter of fact.

"No…" Fred brushed off the muddy leaves from the brown tweedy jacket he had taken from the dirty pile, his own green jacket in a pillow case to his side. His fellow escapee had refused to change clothes.

She looked at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He would get lost off into thought so easily, it was like this was the world of dreams to him, and his mind the reality. Not that Delorus had any room to think like that, mind you.

The whole place seemed rather unreal, like walking though an oil painting. The swirls and the twists of the night, coupled with the lights, sounds, and smells, it was overwhelming to Delorus- but Fred, he was more focused.

"Fred," She whined, something she had been doing for the last several minutes, "whut in tarnations are ya'll doin' again?"

Ejected from my love's abode (though in sense I fled in fear), I had to find a home of my own, and while I looked, and looked, and looked- there was not a place I took.

It was a fine summer day in Haven, as a Fred with a tired eye, holding an old newspaper came walking up a bustling street. He looked up at the sign…Ah, Fleet Street, this was the place. And what a place!

Until one day, I stopped and looked, at a place of sweet sweet perfection, where none would come, and no one learn of just how I was…_naughty._

It was only a month, that's as long as it took to wash the walls, paint them, clear the glass, paint it. He cleaned the insides, and done them up in the way he pleased. Soon, it was a shop he could be proud of. One with creamy white and soft red tiles. He had his tools in places, just in case, but no one ever came into a barber shop in the big city, not when there're fancy hair saloons. But one day…

Into my shop he walked one day, with bush above and bouquet.

A man, who had no liking for those fancy smancy hair places, entered into Fred's shop as he was washing his mainly unused hair-cutting tools. Fred's heart jumped- this man, with his flaming hair…so so much hair…walked in with an air of gruffness. The man, short in the comparison of Fred, sat down on the barber chair.

That's no toupee, I pray, no way.

"Just a little off the top," He grunted, as Fred pulled on his collar. Was it getting hot in there? There was a pushing feeling in his chest, like some sort of angry monster, ready to rip and tear at…

I couldn't help but be…_you know._

Hair, such hair! It was truly everywhere! Fred tried to control himself, be professional about it- but, so hard. His hand was slightly shaky over the man's head, holding the electric razor.

"You awake up there?" Fred answered him by turning on his razor.

His bangs, they sang. His neck, it beckoned. Eyebrows, armpits, all were reckoned. Soon I figured what the heck, and….Guess how I got _naughty._

Fred stood in a pool of red hair when he was done, turning off the razor. A smile as wide as can be on his face. The man said something, but Fred was busy patting himself on the back, it felt so good. But that good feeling was destroyed, as something hard was placed into his stomach.

He toppled over, knocking the glass jar with its sudsy water down. It shattered, spray everything everywhere. Fred propped himself against the counter, aware of the last words said from his unfortunate customer.

"-police, you freaky barber."

Delorus make a grunting noise when Fred didn't reply as they cross the street. He stopped, looking up at the sign. Yes, so close. He increased his speed, breathing feverishly. So close…so close. He envisioned himself rip off the plywood boards that blocked him from the door…only, there were none there.

Confusion laced Fred's face, "Where're here, Delorus…"

Fred went to the door, pulling on the cold metal handle hard. But the door was locked. Fred's smile slid off his face like warm butter, he fell to his knees, still clenching the handle. His shop…his shop…


End file.
